Save Me
by soapfan99
Summary: Everything S 1-6 happened. AU futurefic. Eventually Brucas and Sawyer as a family. Peyton has breast cancer. She dies. Brooke and Lucas turn to each other for comfort. How will Sawyer react if her mom's best friend and her dad are together?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**Can-cer**

**-noun**

**1. Pathology.**

** a. A malignant and invasive growth or tumor, especially one originating in epithelium, tending to recur after excision and to metastasize to other sites.**

** b. Any disease characterized by such growths.**

**2. Any evil condition or thing that spreads destructively; blight.**

The word _cancer_ instills fear in the hearts of the strongest men. Cancer is not visible to the naked eye. It invades our bodies, destroying us from the inside out. How can we fight that which we cannot see? How can we fight a disease that turns us against ourselves?

Lucas Scott has always loved to read. The world has changed, but human nature has stayed the same. He can read a book set in a different time and relate to the characters. He can lose himself in the world created by the author. Sitting at the desk in the bedroom, Lucas was reading. He didn't know the real world was about to come crashing down around him. He heard footsteps and marked his place in the book. He looked up and smiled when Peyton walked into the room.

"Lucas, I have to tell you something," Peyton said. Her voice was shaky. She was trying not to cry.

Lucas looked at Peyton. His forehead creased in concern. "Okay," he said.

"I have breast cancer," Peyton said.

Lucas shook his head. "No," he said.

A tear rolled down Peyton's cheek. "Yes," she said.

"How can you have cancer?" Lucas asked.

"Ellie had breast cancer. The odds are higher for people with a family history," Peyton said. Her voice was thick with tears.

"Ellie is dead. You could die," Lucas said.

"I know. I'm scared," Peyton admitted.

"What can we do to keep you alive?" Lucas asked.

"I need surgery," Peyton said.

"Okay," Lucas said.

"I don't want to tell anyone," Peyton said.

"Sawyer's going to know if you have surgery," Lucas pointed out.

"I don't want to worry her. I'm gonna be okay. We can tell her I'm in LA meeting with Rick about a new band," Peyton said.

Some people would call Lucas a hero. He puts his own life on the line to save the lives of others. He ran into a burning building to save Dan. He went back into Tree Hill High to rescue Peyton when Jimmy Edwards was holding students hostage. He doesn't leave others to fend for themselves. He couldn't be at home with Sawyer while Peyton was alone in a hospital.

Lucas wasn't going to tell Brooke that Peyton had cancer. He was just going to ask Brooke if Sawyer could stay with her. That was why he went to Brooke's house.

There are people who can see right through us. They know every facial expression, every tone of voice, and every mannerism. They always know when we're lying. They can sense our moods.

Lucas should have known Brooke would see right through him. Maybe he did know on some level. Maybe he needed to tell someone. Brooke had seen him at his best and at his worst. She took one look at him and knew this was worst.

"Lucas, what's wrong?" Brooke asked. Her voice was laced with concern.

"I'm not supposed to tell anyone," Lucas said.

"You can tell me anything," Brooke said.

"I know," Lucas said. "Peyton has breast cancer."

Brooke stared at him. Her mouth opened slightly. "Is she gonna be okay?" She asked.

"She's having surgery. If it works, she'll be fine," Lucas said.

"What if it doesn't work?" Brooke asked.

"Then we could lose her," Lucas said.

Tears stung Brooke's eyes. "Can I do anything?" She asked.

"Yeah. Can Sawyer stay here? Peyton doesn't want her to know she's having surgery. We're going to tell her that we're going out of town," Lucas said.

"Of course," Brooke said.

Brooke Davis was an expert at masking her emotions. She hid her feelings. She had an uncanny inability to appear cheerful, but things are not always as they appear. In high school, she told Lucas she wanted to date him _and_ other people when the _only _person she wanted to be with was Lucas. He didn't see her fear. He just saw her cool confidence and cheerful smile. After she was attacked in her store, she looked at her best friend and told her the black eyes and bruises that not even Brooke could hide were from falling down the stairs. And Peyton believed her. Brooke was able to hide her feelings when she was the only one hurting. It was when other people were hurting that her emotions were exposed to the world. When she walked into Peyton's hospital room and saw Peyton lying in the bed, Brooke's sadness and fear were written all over her face.

"Brooke Davis, you are not crying," Peyton said.

Brooke wiped a tear away.

"I'm okay. I'm gonna be okay," Peyton said.

"I love you, P Sawyer," Brooke said. Her voice was thick with tears.

"You're something, you know that? I have cancer and you're the one that needs consoling," Peyton said. She smiled.

A smile flashed across Brooke's face. "Can I do anything?" She asked.

"You're doing it," Peyton said.

Brooke did the only thing she could do for Lucas and Peyton. She went to Tree Hill Middle School to pick Sawyer up. She wanted to do more. She _needed_ to do more.

Sawyer saw Brooke's BMW waiting outside her school. She put her backpack and the duffel bag she'd packed in the backseat and got in the front.

"Hey," Brooke said. A wide smile stretched across her face, showing her dimples.

"Hey," Sawyer replied. She leaned over and gave Brooke a hug.

"We're going to the mall," Brooke said.

Brooke saw the same beauty in clothes that Peyton saw in songs. Just as a song could bring a smile to Peyton's face after a bad day, a dress could give Brooke a reason to smile when nothing was going her way. In high school, she went to the mall with Peyton. Now she was at the mall with Peyton's daughter.

At fourteen, Sawyer looked just like Peyton had when she was in high school. She even dressed like Peyton. She was tall and skinny. She wore her blonde hair down, letting the loose curls cascade down her back.

When Peyton told Brooke she was pregnant, Brooke knew she would love Peyton's child. The child could be a boy or girl. The child could act like Brooke's best friend or the boy Brooke had once loved. It didn't matter. Brooke's love was instantaneous and unconditional. Sawyer was her goddaughter. Even if Sawyer hadn't been anything to Brooke, Brooke would have liked her. She reminded Brooke of her best friend.

Brooke Davis was generous. She gave freely to people she loved and people she didn't know. All a model had to do was say she liked Brooke's design and it was hers. She gave hundreds of dollars worth of clothes to a teenager that tried to steal from her. She eventually gave that teenager much more than clothing. She would give until there was nothing left. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do for the people she loved. She sacrificed her own happiness for them.

For every outfit Brooke bought for herself, she bought Sawyer two. She didn't have to give Sawyer anything. Sawyer loved Brooke. Brooke was her mom's best friend, her godmother, the woman she'd called "Aunt Brooke" since she started talking. It didn't matter that Brooke spoiled her with extravagant gifts. All that mattered was that Brooke had always been there for her. Sawyer didn't need any of the things Brooke bought for her. They were just _things_.

Brooke and Sawyer put all of the things Brooke bought in the back and got in the car.

"Thank you, Aunt Brooke," Sawyer said.

"Of course. What do you want for dinner? I can get Chinese take-out or we can order a pizza," Brooke said.

Sawyer smirked. "Are you ever going to learn how to cook?" She asked sarcastically.

"The last time I tried to cook, the smoke detectors went off," Brooke said.

"I can cook," Sawyer offered.

In Brooke's kitchen, Sawyer stood in front of the refrigerator looking at the contents. The refrigerator looked like it belonged to a college student, not a thirty-something. It had take-out cartons, beer, wine and hard liquor. Sawyer scraped together the ingredients to make pizza from scratch. She found a pizza pan in Brooke's cupboard. She was pre-heating the oven when Brooke walked into the kitchen.

"That oven hates me," Brooke said.

"Oh, I don't think it hates you. It's probably just scared of you," Sawyer said. She set the temperature on the oven and then looked up. She laughed when she saw Brooke wearing a red apron. "I never thought I'd see you in an apron."

"We're cooking together," Brooke said.

Sawyer smirked. "No, I'm cooking. You're just decorating the kitchen," she said.

Brooke kinked her eyebrows. "Do you want me to burn the house down?" She asked.

"Not really," Sawyer said.

Worrying doesn't accomplish anything. Worrying that a situation won't have the desired outcome doesn't change the outcome. We waste time worrying. We let our worries take away from our happiness. We let worry keep us up at night.

Brooke's worry that Peyton's surgery wouldn't work didn't change anything. It didn't change the surgeon's ability to remove the cancerous tissue. It didn't change Peyton's ability to fight the disease. Brooke enjoyed dinner with Sawyer, but her worry sapped her joy. Long after Sawyer fell asleep, Brooke was in her own bed tossing and turning because she couldn't stop worrying. Sawyer wouldn't have been able to sleep if she knew she should be worried, but she didn't know that her mom had cancer. She would be the last to know.

Secrets always come out. Oftentimes people trust the wrong person to keep their secret. Even the people we trust most can betray our trust. Maybe they think keeping the secret is hurting us more than it's helping us. Or maybe the burden of keeping our secret is too much for them to bear. Even if no one tells the truth, it is often plain to see.

Sawyer saw the effects of cancer long before she knew her mom had cancer. She saw the signs of exhaustion. Peyton had bags under her eyes. Peyton's movements were sluggish. Peyton would stop walking suddenly and grasp onto anything within reach: a chair, a table, a counter, or a wall. Sawyer saw the effect cancer had on her own life before she knew the reason for the changes. She missed her parents, who had always been her biggest fans, at her basketball games. She would be waiting outside of school for her mom and Brooke would show up to pick her up instead.

It wasn't until Peyton was starting chemotherapy that she finally told Sawyer the truth. A side effect of the chemo was hair loss. Peyton couldn't hide a bald head from her daughter.

Lucas indicated a chair at the kitchen table. "Sawyer, sit down," he said. His voice was grave.

Sawyer sat down.

Lucas and Peyton sat across from their daughter. Lucas reached for Peyton's hand. They locked eyes. Lucas nodded his head slightly in encouragement.

"Honey, I have to tell you something. I'm sick. I have cancer," Peyton said. Her voice was thick with tears.

Sawyer stared at her mom. It shouldn't have been shocking and yet her mouth opened slightly. It was a reasonable explanation for her mom's fatigue and her parents' unexplained absences. Sawyer's wide eyes narrowed. "You've been sick for awhile, haven't you?" She asked. Her mom didn't answer right away. "Haven't you!"

"Sawyer, I was going to tell you. It's just you've been so happy and I didn't want you to worry," Peyton said quickly.

"So you lied?" Sawyer asked angrily.

"I'm sorry," Peyton said.

"How could you just act like nothing's wrong when you have cancer?" Sawyer asked.

"Because I'm gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be okay. You have nothing to worry about," Peyton said.

"I am worried about you," Sawyer said.

"And I love you for that, but, Honey, I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here," Peyton said.

"We are going to do whatever it takes to keep your mom alive," Lucas said. His jaw set in determination.

"Okay," Sawyer said.

That was the last thing Sawyer said before she left the kitchen for the solitude of her room. Her parents watched her leave. They only knew what she told them. They didn't know that they'd lost her trust. They didn't know that their daughter was sitting at her desk looking up cancer survival rates on the Internet.

Sawyer hadn't asked any questions because she wouldn't believe the answers if they came from her parents. She got the answers she needed from the Internet, but she didn't like them. She would spend the next two years living in fear that her mom was about to become a statistic.


	2. Say Goodbye

**Author's Note: **Thank you to everyone who is reading this story. I hope you're enjoying it. Thank you for your reviews: may92, OTH-FOQ, G-styler, and dianehermans.

Everything season one through six happened. In the prologue, Sawyer was fourteen and Peyton, Lucas and Brooke were thirty-six if my math is correct. In this chapter and going forward, Sawyer is sixteen and Peyton, Lucas and Brooke are thirty-eight. I won't do any more jumps in time, but I will include some flashbacks. This will mostly be a Brucas story with the exception of flashbacks. Lucas, Brooke and Sawyer are the main characters. The next chapter will be Peyton's funeral. Other characters that will make appearances are: Nathan, Haley, Jamie, Naley's daughter, Andy, Karen and Lily. An OC will appear as Sawyer's boyfriend. I plan to include details on Brooke's personal life in the story. To answer a question, she married Julian and they are now divorced. I like Brulian, but this is a Brucas story. Brooke isn't able to have children.

**Chapter 1: Say Goodbye**

**Two years later…**

Most of us don't know how much time we have left, when our time will run out. Teenagers who have their whole lives ahead of them die in fatal car crashes caused by driving drunk. In nursing homes, elderly people live uncomfortably, waiting to rest in peace. Death can come for us at any time.

Is it a blessing or a curse to be one of the few that knows how much time we have left? In some ways it is both. It gives us time to set our affairs in order. We can make last minute changes to our wills. We can say our goodbyes. We can cross the last items off our bucket lists.

Peyton Sawyer knew her time was up. She'd finalized her will over a year ago. Now she had to say her goodbyes. She didn't want to spend her final days crossing goofy items off her bucket list. She wanted to spend all of the time she had left at home with her family and friends.

How did Peyton put a goodbye into words for the boy who filled two books with words professing his love for her? How did Peyton tell Brooke, who had been there with her for the death of two moms, that she wouldn't be there for Brooke when Brooke needed her? Hardest still, how did Peyton tell her daughter that she wouldn't be there for her high school graduation, her wedding day, or the birth of her first child?

Lucas and Peyton returned home from Peyton's doctor appointment. They were as close as two people could be. Both broody loners, they were kindred spirits. Now they couldn't be further apart. Lucas's expression was grave. He would do anything to keep Peyton alive, even if it was only for another day. Peyton was smiling. She was at peace with the world. She had accepted her fate. She was in so much pain. The pain medication her doctor prescribed did nothing. The pain would only stop when she died.

"We should get you in bed," Lucas said.

"I've spent the last year in bed! I'm tired of being in bed," Peyton said.

Lucas narrowed his eyes at Peyton. "The doctor said the odds are that you have three weeks," he said. He held up a finger to emphasize the importance of what he was saying.

"And there's nothing he can do! I'm dying, Lucas Scott!" Peyton yelled. She didn't raise her voice out of anger. She was just frustrated. She had spent the last year in bed _dying_. She wanted to spend her last month _living_.

"I can't live my life without you…I can't," Lucas said. His voice was thick with tears.

"I will _always_ be with you. You will _never_ be on your own. You have Sawyer. Lucas, she's you and she's me. You're an amazing dad. And you have Nathan and Haley and Brooke," Peyton said.

Lucas' eyes were brimming with tears. "We were going to have a happy ending," he said.

"Our story already has the greatest ending. I want you to know how happy you made me," Peyton said.

"You know you made me happy," Lucas said.

"Don't hide your heart. Don't bench yourself on my account. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to get whatever you want," Peyton said. She didn't want Lucas to live a lonely existence because she died. She didn't want him to be afraid to live, afraid to love again.

Shortly after Peyton asked her to come over, Brooke got to Lucas' house. She stood in the doorway of the bedroom watching Peyton. Peyton was sitting up in bed staring intently at her sketchpad. Brooke had seen that expression every time Peyton was pouring herself into her art. It was almost like nothing had changed.

"Hey," Brooke said, announcing her presence. She sat down beside Peyton on the bed. "What you got there?" She asked. She looked over Peyton's shoulder. Peyton had drawn herself, her mom and Ellie as angels. They weren't angels of death as Ellie had once drawn Peyton. They were surrounded by light. They looked peaceful. The sketch showed just how much had changed. "Peyton…" Brooke said reproachfully.

"What? I accepted my fate," Peyton said. Her voice was strong.

"How can this be fate?" Brooke asked.

"Maybe it is," Peyton said confidently.

"Do you know how much you mean to me? I can't lose you. I don't know what I'm going to do without you," Brooke said.

"You know how much I love you? Brooke, you're my best friend. You were there with me when my mom died and when Ellie died and this entire time I've been dying. I need you to do something for me, okay? Be there for Sawyer and Lucas. They're going to need you," Peyton said.

"Of course," Brooke replied.

Brooke hugged Peyton gently, almost as if she was afraid that Peyton would break. Peyton looked fragile. She had always been skinny. She hadn't had any weight to lose, but she'd lost weight in the last two years. She was now emaciated, sickly pale and frail.

Goodbyes are always hard. Peyton saved the hardest goodbye for last. It wasn't that she didn't love her husband and her best friend. It was just that she knew what her mom's death did to her. She didn't want that for Sawyer. She loved Sawyer more than life itself.

Peyton went into her daughter's room. She hadn't been anywhere outside of the hospital and her own room in awhile. In that time, Sawyer's room had changed. The last time Peyton was there the walls were painted blue. They were now black. The scarily realistic sketches of the people in Sawyer's life in various settings: Lucas at the river court, Lucas changing the oil in the Comet, Peyton drawing, Peyton at Red Bedroom Records, Jamie in his basketball uniform on the Ravens court had been taken down. They were replaced with dark artwork: a corpse with Peyton's hair in an open coffin, a depiction of Ellie as the grim reaper, a take-off of Peyton's "PEOPLE ALWAYS LEAVE" drawing with cancer cells instead of a stoplight.

In the last two years, Sawyer had never once complained. She'd been understanding when her parents missed her basketball games, when her mom had been too sick to attend her middle school graduation, when the old Mustang that Lucas had always promised to fix in time for Sawyer's 16th birthday sat untouched in the garage and she instead received a new red Mustang. She'd been strong in front of her parents, waiting until she was alone in her room to cry.

For the first time, Peyton realized Sawyer was taking her frustrations out in her art. How could she have been blind to it? Of all people, Peyton should have known. It was how she released her feelings about her mom's death and her dad not being home with her.

Sawyer walked into her room. She froze when she saw her mom looking at her drawings. She had once had an open door policy with her mom. That was when she had nothing to hide.

"What are you doing?" Sawyer asked.

"Looking at your drawings. Nice," Peyton said sarcastically. Smirking, she took the drawing of her as a corpse down. "I really like this one."

"You weren't supposed to see that," Sawyer said quietly.

Peyton looked at her daughter. It was a knowing look. "Don't hide in your art, in your sadness. Let people in," she said.

Sawyer nodded.

Peyton sat on the edge of Sawyer's bed and patted the spot next to her in invitation. "I want to talk with you," she said.

Sawyer sat down beside her mom.

"When I was pregnant with you, I had a condition called placenta previa. I could have died. I made a box of things I wanted you to have just in case something happened to me," Peyton said.

Sawyer looked at the box her mom was holding. Her fingers itched to open it. "Can I?" She asked.

"It's yours," Peyton said. Smiling in encouragement, she offered the box to Sawyer.

Taking the box from her mom, Sawyer lifted the lid and set it aside. The box once held a video Peyton made for her unborn child, an iPod with one hundred songs, pictures of Peyton, Lucas, Nathan, Haley and Brooke throughout the years and the sketches that meant the most to Peyton. After Sawyer was born, Peyton took the sketches out and hung them up, but everything else was just as it had been the day Peyton made the box.

Sawyer took each item out one-by-one. She looked at the pictures taken when her mom was healthy and happy. She smirked at a picture of Peyton, Haley and Brooke at the Ravens State Championship game. She knew they were cheerleaders, but it was weird to see a picture of them in their uniforms. Peyton wasn't the typical bubbly cheerleader. She was more of a broody loner.

"I never would have pictured you as a cheerleader," Sawyer said.

"My mom was a cheerleader," Peyton explained. If it weren't for her mom and Brooke, she never would have been a cheerleader. In high school, she wasn't cheerful.

Sawyer took the iPod out next. She tried to turn it on, but the battery was dead. She looked at her mom questioningly.

"The last time it was charged was sixteen years ago," Peyton said. She smiled. "I loaded it with a playlist. One hundred songs to save your life."

"Can they save yours?" Sawyer said. Her voice was a mixture of sarcasm and bitterness. She already knew the answer. There was nothing the doctors could do to save her mom's life. There was nothing she could do. There was nothing anyone could do. She saw what the offhand remark did to her mom. There was a flash of pain in Peyton's eyes. Peyton wasn't smiling anymore. "I'm sorry, Mom," Sawyer said quickly.

"It's okay," Peyton said.

"No! It's not okay!" Sawyer said angrily. "I don't want you to die."

"Being a kid without a mom really sucks. I know. I've been there twice. I am so sorry for that. I didn't want this for you," Peyton said. Tears were brimming in her eyes.

"Don't be sorry. You're a great mom," Sawyer said.

Peyton smiled. "You're a great kid. You've been amazing this entire time I've been sick. You made sure I had a great life," she said.

Peyton wrapped her arms around Sawyer and pulled her closer. She closed her eyes. She never wanted to let go.

Sawyer rested her head on her mom's shoulder. She breathed in her mom's scent, committing it to memory. Peyton stroked Sawyer's blonde curls. The maternal gesture felt good.

"Take care of your dad," Peyton murmured.

Peyton felt Sawyer's head bob up and down. She pulled away and looked at her daughter. A tear was rolling down Sawyer's cheek. Sawyer hastily wiped it away.

Is it a blessing or a curse to be one of the few that knows how much time we have left, to be able to say goodbye? It was a blessing and a curse. There was nothing left unsaid. There would be no angry last words that they spent a lifetime regretting.

Brooke Davis cried herself to sleep that night. Sawyer Scott snuck out and drowned her sorrows in half a bottle of tequila. Unable to rest, Lucas Scott lay awake, watching his wife sleep and wondering if it would be the last night they spent together.

"_Man's feelings are always purest and most glowing in the hour of meeting and of farewell."_

_-Jean Paul Richter_


	3. The Funeral

**Author's Note:** Thank you for your reviews: Melissagirl, alysef, OTH-FOQ, and dianehermans.

**Chapter 2: The Funeral**

"_It is not flesh and blood but the heart which makes us fathers and sons." _

_Johann Schiller_

Our family is the people who love us unconditionally. They will be there for us no matter what. They know us better than anyone else. They know our faults and they love us in spite of them. They can forgive us for the unforgivable. We can take our anger out on them on our darkest days. We can say harsh words to them. We can push them away. And they will still be there for us in our time of need.

As a young boy, Lucas Scott's family was his mom, Karen Roe, and his uncle, Keith Scott. The father who didn't want him was not part of his family. Lucas' genetic makeup, the Scott blood didn't make Dan Scott family. As a teenager, Lucas acknowledged Nathan Scott as family. It didn't matter that they'd never spoken two words to each other until high school, or that they once hated each other. They were brothers.

Peyton Sawyer's family was even more complicated than the Scott's. As a child, she knew Larry and Anna Sawyer as her parents, her family. They provided a happy, loving home for her. Peyton started questioning everything she thought she knew when Ellie claimed to be Peyton's birth mother. At age seventeen, Peyton's world was turned upside down. Were the people she called "Mom" and "Dad" her parents? Did she want to know her brother? Peyton had two moms who loved her. She also had twice the heartache when she lost both of them before her eighteenth birthday.

Brooke Davis always wanted a family, yet she always felt like she was doomed to go through the world alone. As a baby, she cried when her mother, Victoria Davis, picked her up. She didn't know Victoria's voice, Victoria's touch. Her first word was "Mom," but it was said to a nanny. Instead of loving her, her father ignored her and her mother resented her. We can't choose the family we are born into, but we can choose the people we love, the people who are in our lives, the people who we share our joy and sorrow with. Brooke's friends were her family.

As a boy, Nathan Scott's family seemed perfect. His father, Dan Scott, was always there for him, but Dan's presence did more harm than good. His love wasn't unconditional. There were strings attached. Nathan was never a good enough basketball player. Dan pushed him hard, nearly to his breaking point. As a teenager, Nathan became an emancipated minor. If only a piece of paper signed by the judge cut all ties. At only seventeen, Nathan and Haley James Scott became a family. Haley's love was strong enough to undo the damage done by Dan. Nathan became a good man, a great father to their two children.

It was Peyton's family, nuclear and extended, and the best friend that loved her like a sister who were there for her for the two years she fought a losing battle against cancer. They were right there, fighting with her. Even when she was bald, Lucas thought she was beautiful. He loved her, inside and out. She cried enough tears to fill a swimming pool on Brooke's shoulder. Haley took the reigns at Red Bedroom Records. She wanted Peyton's record label to be just as successful the day Peyton went into remission as it was the day Peyton was diagnosed with breast cancer. She didn't know that day would never come.

It was Peyton's family who got in a black limousine on the day of her funeral. Lucas and Sawyer Scott. Brooke Davis. Nathan Scott, Haley Scott, Jamie Scott and Charlotte Scott. Karen Roe, Andy, and Lily Scott. They were there for Peyton and for each other. The limousine stopped at the graveyard.

Peyton's family joined the other mourners already gathered around her grave.

Lucas wanted to read a poem, _The Last Night That She Lived, _for Peyton. Stepping forward, he cleared his throat.

"Emily Dickinson once wrote…

_The last night that she lived,_

_It was a common night,_

_Except the dying; this to us_

_Made nature different._

_We noticed smallest things,_

_Things overlooked before,_

_By this great light upon our minds_

_Italicized as it were._

_The others could exist_

_While she must finish quite,_

_A jealousy for her arose_

_So nearly infinite._

_We waited while she passed;_

_It was a narrow time,_

_Too jostled were our souls to speak,_

_At length the notice came._

_She mentioned, and forgot;_

_Then lightly as a reed_

_Bent to the water, shivered scarce,_

_Consented, and was dead._

_And we, we placed the hair,_

_And drew the head erect;_

_And then an awful leisure was,_

_Our faith to regulate."_

Lucas' voice was thick with tears by the time he finished. He was grateful the minister would take it from there.

"And now we ask for the strength to navigate the stages of our grief as we lay our sister Peyton to rest."

As the minister finished, he invited the mourners to perform the symbolic gesture of putting dust over Peyton's ashes. Sawyer stepped forward. Her eyes were sad. Her expression was stoic. A generous amount of dirt in her hand, Sawyer stared at the coffin in the ground. Looking at the coffin, knowing her mom's dead body was inside it, she stifled a sob. She watched as the brown dirt hit the mahogany coffin.

Her role in the ceremony over, Sawyer watched the others. She liked people watching. She often sat in a public place, the park or coffee shop, and watched people until someone caught her eye. She drew anyone that stood out to her. A well-trained eye can pick up on subtle human behaviors.

Now she noticed that many of the mourners were crying harder than she was. It was ironic. Their tears, their sadness fueled her anger. They were all acting like Peyton's death was the hardest on them. It wasn't.

Lily had only seen Peyton a few times a year at most. Haley and Peyton were good friends, but Haley had other friends. If Haley needed a friend to talk to, she could call Brooke or Lucas. Sawyer lost her mom. No one else could ever fill that role. She was only sixteen. She would have to go through so many monumental occasions without the single most important person in her life. Her mom wouldn't be there for her high school graduation, her wedding day, or the birth of her first child. What Sawyer lost couldn't be replaced.

After the last mourner put a handful of dirt in the grave, Lucas returned to the grave. He was so close to Peyton, yet so far. He knew it was only her body in the coffin. Her soul was gone. The coffin was closed. He didn't need to see Peyton's body. He knew it like the back of his hand. He'd been the first to notice without fail when Peyton lost a pound because of the nausea or a strand of blonde hair fell out because of the chemotherapy. That wasn't how he wanted to remember her. He wanted to remember her healthy. Strong.

What do we leave behind when we're done in the world? The work we hope will mean something to somebody. The people we loved. Do we leave the world a better place? Did we change the world, or even just one person's world? Will we be missed? How many people will attend our funeral?

Peyton Sawyer changed the lives of musicians waiting for their big break and fans who appreciated good music. She played a role in creating songs that could change people's moods in four minutes or less. The songs would live on long after her death. She left behind a boy who would have sacrificed his own life to save hers, a beautiful daughter, a best friend who would do anything for her, musicians who considered her not only a boss, but a friend as well.

Everyone went back to Lucas' house for the wake. Sawyer escaped the masses, seeking sanctuary in her parents' room. She saw her mom's black leather jacket hanging on the back of the desk chair. She picked it up, feeling the texture and inhaling the smell of leather mixed with the lingering scent of Peyton's perfume. She slipped the jacket on over her black dress.

Sinking down on the floor, Sawyer drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around herself. Her body shook with tears. That was how Brooke found her. The sight of the damaged girl pulled at Brooke's heartstrings.

"Hey," Brooke said. Sitting down beside Sawyer, Brooke put her arm around Sawyer and pulled her closer. Sawyer rested her head on Brooke's shoulder.

"You know how much I love you, right?" Brooke asked. Sawyer almost smiled through her tears. "And your dad loves you very much. There are so many people out there who care about you and want to pay their respects. What do you say we go out there?"

Standing, Brooke offered Sawyer her hand and pulled the teenager to her feet. Hand in hand, they walked out to the living room. Catching Brooke's eye, Lucas tried to shoot her a grateful smile, but it came off as more of a pained grimace.

People immediately flooded Sawyer. She stared at each person who apologized to her. She didn't know most of them and they didn't know her. She recognized the musicians on her mom's record label, but most of them didn't even know her name. Even those who did know her knew nothing about how she was feeling.

The attention shifted from Lucas to Sawyer, Haley and Nathan seized the first opportunity to talk to him without an audience.

"Hey. How you doing?" Haley asked. Her voice was laced with concern.

"I just want her to come back. I just want her to come home. It's not fair," Lucas said.

"If you hadn't gone back into the school and saved Peyton after Jimmy Edwards shot her, we could have been at her funeral twenty-one years ago. You saved her," Nathan said.

"I couldn't save her from this," Lucas said.

"That's not your fault," Haley said.

"You were there for her," Nathan said.

"She loved you. Just like we do," Haley said.

Lucas looked for Brooke. She was easy to find, even in a crowd. He heard her distinctive raspy voice before he saw her. The fashion designer was easily the most beautiful woman in the room.

"Brooke, how's Sawyer doing?" Lucas asked.

"Not so good. I found her on the floor in your room crying," Brooke replied.

"I saw what growing up without a mother did to Peyton. I never wanted this for her," Lucas said.

"Lucas, you grew up without a father and you're one of the best guys I know. You're a great dad. You're gonna be okay," Brooke said.

"I had Keith," Lucas pointed out.

"And Sawyer has Haley and me. I'm here for her. And I'm here for you," Brooke said.

Lucas looked at Brooke. He saw the same emotions he was feeling in her eyes. Sadness, sorrow, grief. "It means a lot to me to know you're here," he said.

Though they weren't related by blood or marriage, they were family. Lucas Scott and Brooke Davis were always there for each other no matter what. She'd been there for him when Keith died and now she would be there for him as he grieved for Peyton.

Sawyer Scott and Jamie Scott had never just been cousins. They were friends. Sawyer had enough of Peyton in her and Jamie enough of Lucas that they formed a bond, similar to the friendship Peyton and Lucas once had. Both avid readers with an eclectic taste in music, they could talk for hours. That's where the similarities ended. Jamie was happy and outgoing. He saw the best in people. He would open his heart to anyone and everyone. Sawyer was dark and broody. She was guarded. Jamie was one of the select few she let in.

Knowing she would rather be anywhere but there, Jamie rescued Sawyer from the mourners.

"Sawyer, can we talk?" Jamie asked.

Looking at Jamie with gratitude in her eyes, Sawyer nodded. She followed him to the kitchen. "Thank you," she said.

"How you doing?" Jamie asked.

Raising her eyebrows, Sawyer glared at Jamie.

"You're probably pretty sick of people asking you that," Jamie said.

"Oh, you know, after about the hundredth time, it gets old," Sawyer said sarcastically.

"How's school? Who do you have for English Lit?" Jamie asked.

"Mrs. Smith," Sawyer replied.

"I had her. She's cool. Are you reading _The Great Gatsby_? That's one of my favorite books," Jamie said.

Sawyer nodded. "I already read it. It was good," she replied. "How's college?"

"Basketball has always been such a big part of my life. I miss it. I thought I wanted to be a writer like Uncle Lucas, but I'm thinking about being a sports writer," Jamie said.

At twenty, Jamie looked like a mixture of Nathan and Lucas. His once dirty blonde hair had darkened to a shade closer to his dad's. He was built like Lucas, shorter and less muscular than Nathan. He was a good basketball player, but he knew he wasn't tall enough to make it to the NBA. He decided not to play at the college level, instead focusing on school.

"You're a good writer and you know basketball. You would be a great sports writer," Sawyer said.

"Thanks. What's this I hear about you and Damon Westerly?" Jamie asked.

Sawyer's mouth opened slightly. Once her surprise that her cousin knew about her boyfriend wore off, she smirked. "What do you hear?" She asked.

"That you're together," Jamie replied.

"Then I guess you heard right," Sawyer said.

"He's not good enough for you," Jamie said.

Sawyer crossed her arms in front of her defensively, defiantly. "I didn't ask you," she said.

"Be careful with him," Jamie warned.

As much as Sawyer didn't want Jamie's opinion, it mattered to her. He was her family, her friend. It is our family's opinions that matter most to us.

"_Our most basic instinct is not for survival but for family. Most of us would give our own life for the survival of a family member, yet we lead our daily life too often as if we take our family for granted."_

_-Paul Pearshall_


	4. Mistakes

**Author's Note:** Thank you for your reviews: dianehermans, G-styler, may92 and mickeiblue.

Some of you wanted Damon to be Brooke's son. Everything season one through six happened. I didn't want to reinvent the wheel. At the end of season six, Sawyer was born and Brooke wasn't pregnant. I didn't want to rewrite history and give her a child the same age as Sawyer. And, her having a child wouldn't work for this story. I know where I want to take the characters. I plan to include details on Brooke's personal life in future chapters. She married Julian and they are now divorced. Brooke isn't able to have children. Her inability to have children strained her marriage. Damon's mom is someone we've seen before. She'll make an appearance eventually.

**Chapter 3: Mistakes**

"_Raising children is an incredibly hard and risky business in which no cumulative wisdom is gained: each generation repeats the mistakes the previous one made."_

–_Bill Cosby_

So much of who we are, good and bad, is because of our parents. We can see ourselves in our children. We hope they will be the best of us, but sometimes we see our worst qualities in them.

For some of us, our parents are our heroes. We want to be like them, follow in their footsteps, take over the family business someday, be as good a parent to our children as they were to us. For others, our parents made mistakes left and right. We don't want to become them. We use them as an example of what not to do when we have children of our own.

For Lucas Scott, his mom and Keith Scott are as close to perfect as parents can be. He always felt loved. He took it for granted that his mom would be there for him whenever, wherever he needed her. They raised him to be a good man. He knew if he was half the parent to Sawyer that his mom was to him, Sawyer would become a woman he could be proud of.

It wasn't until Peyton got sick that he deviated from the example Karen and Keith set for him. It was triage. When disaster strikes, doctors can't treat all of their patients at once. They have to prioritize. They treat those with critical injuries first. Those with minor scrapes have to wait. Disaster, in the form of breast cancer, devastated the Scott Family. No one was left unharmed, but Peyton was the only one who might not make it out alive. She was Lucas' top priority. Everything else, everyone else could wait. Even Sawyer.

Lucas put Karen Roe on a pedestal. He remembered the good and forgot the bad. She was a good mom, but no one is perfect. Everyone makes mistakes. To protect Lucas, she didn't tell him that Dan wanted joint custody when they moved to Tree Hill. It was that mistake that made Lucas see his mom as imperfect, flawed, human. After Keith died, she locked herself away from the world, away from her son. The good memories overshadowed the bad. If Lucas remembered Karen's mistakes, maybe he wouldn't have repeated them.

Lying on his bed in the black suit he'd worn to the funeral and wake, Lucas picked up the picture on his nightstand. It was taken when Lucas, Peyton and Sawyer went to a Bobcats game in Charlotte. The road trip was a surprise for Lucas on his 32nd birthday. They were all wearing Bobcats jerseys. Lucas had a proprietary arm around Peyton's shoulders. She was his and he wanted everyone in the arena to know. Sawyer was just in front of them. They were smiling. Their smiles were easy and comfortable, not forced. It was the picture of a happy family. A family that Lucas didn't have anymore. Peyton wasn't his anymore. Lucas couldn't remember the last time he saw a real smile on Sawyer's face. Lucas threw the picture frame against the wall with enough force to shatter the glass.

When Sawyer heard the glass break, she ran to her parents' room. She tried the door, but it was locked.

"Dad? Are you okay?" Sawyer called. Her voice was laced with concern.

Lucas was crying too hard to answer. Even if he weren't crying, he didn't know if he would answer. He needed time and space.

Staring at the door, Sawyer blinked back tears. It was more than a wood door that separated them.

"Dad, I'm going out, okay?" Sawyer called.

Sawyer waited for another minute. The silence was deafening. She slowly walked away.

Lucas heard his daughter's retreating footsteps on the wood floor. After about twenty minutes, he heard her bedroom door slam shut and the engine of the Mustang turn over.

Sawyer Scott was more like her parents than any of them knew. She had Lucas' skill and grace on the basketball court. She could transform a blank canvas into something beautiful, something meaningful. But, she also got some of their vices, their weaknesses, their worst habits.

After breaking up with Nathan Scott, Peyton Sawyer referred to him as a bad habit. He was a player. He could be immature, selfish, reckless. She didn't know why she put up with it for as long as she did. Maybe it was because her greatest fear was that people would always leave, that she would always be alone. Her mom left. Her dad was gone more often than not. And Nathan was there. She wasn't going to push him away.

Damon Westerly was the stereotypical bad boy. He played bass in a band, he wore a black leather jacket, he had a tattoo, he drank and he smoked. He was about 5'10 with an athletic build. He styled his brown hair with gel. He was good looking and he knew it.

New in Tree Hill, Damon had started Tree Hill High that year. He was dark and mysterious with an edge of danger. All of the sophomore girls wanted to be the one to solve the mystery. Sawyer Scott was the only exception. He enjoyed the attention. He smiled when they flirted. After a month, he had a well-deserved reputation as a player. It was a game to him. He would do anything to win. He played dirty. He lived in the moment. He never considered the consequences of his actions.

At first, Sawyer didn't give Damon the time of day. It made him want her that much more. The other girls were easy, but Sawyer Scott was a challenge. Sawyer still remembered the first time she saw him as more than an arrogant jerk.

It was Homecoming week and there was a talent show on Wednesday night. Sawyer didn't want to go, but her friends wouldn't take no for an answer. Trying to cheer her up, they dragged her to Tree Hill High. Most of the acts were unimpressive. Sawyer rolled her eyes when Damon and his band took the stage. He probably couldn't even play. He probably just used the bass to impress girls who were too musically challenged to know the difference between a half-ass cover and real music. Picking up the bass, Damon played and started to sing in a clear, strong voice. The auditorium fell silent. There were over a thousand people in the room, but Sawyer felt like he was singing to her. She got lost in the music. After that, it was only a matter of time before the bass player and the music lover got together.

Now they'd been together for over four months. When Lucas pushed her away, she went to Damon's house. She opened the door to Damon's house and walked downstairs to the basement. She felt the beat of music. She opened the door and music flooded her. Green Day was blaring from the speakers. Damon and two guys from his band, David and Zack, were drinking and smoking.

Pulling Sawyer to him, Damon kissed her. His breath smelled like pot, his mouth tasted like beer. She titled her head back, giving him easier access to her mouth. Grabbing her hips, Damon pulled her closer still. She could feel the long, hard length of his body pressed against her. His hands moved up her back and into her hair, wrapping blonde curls around his hand. The kiss was hot, turbulent, explosive.

"You started without me," Sawyer said. She was looking longingly at the empty beer cans. Her tone was mock disappointment.

"That was a long funeral," Damon said.

"It's been over for awhile. Everyone went back to my house. I cleaned up after they left. My dad locked himself in his room. He wouldn't even talk to me," Sawyer explained.

"Isn't he always like that?" Damon asked.

"No. He was really great before my mom got sick. I guess I just thought that now we'd be like we were before. Maybe it was wishful thinking," Sawyer replied.

"Sorry," Damon said. He got Sawyer a beer. "This will help."

Bringing the can to her lips, Sawyer chugged it. She smirked when Damon's mouth opened slightly in surprise. "I have some catching up to do," she said.

Sitting on a barstool at Tric with a shot of tequila, Lucas didn't know he wasn't the only Scott drinking that night. When Lucas felt like he lost everything, he drank. When he lost his spleen, his ability to play basketball, Brooke Davis and Peyton Sawyer after a car accident, he drank. When Lindsay left him at the altar and he almost lost his job as Ravens Head Coach, he drank. Now he'd lost more, he was hurting more than he ever had. He'd racked up a bar tab of over a hundred dollars when Brooke found him.

"Lucas, are you okay?" Brooke asked. Her voice was laced with concern.

"No. Peyton's gone, so no, I'm not really okay," Lucas replied angrily.

Her arms crossed in front of her, Brooke stared at Lucas. "Lucas…" she said reproachfully.

"What? She's gone, Brooke! She's gone!" Lucas yelled.

"I know it's hard. Believe me, I know. But you didn't lose everything. You have Sawyer. She needs her dad. She needs you," Brooke said.

"She needs her mom! I need her mom," Lucas said. His voice started strong, but cracked as he continued.

"Look, I hate it, too, but we have to accept it. Peyton is gone," Brooke said.

"I can't," Lucas replied.

"Peyton didn't want this for you. Let's get you home," Brooke said gently.

When they got to Lucas' house, Brooke opened the passenger door of her BMW.

"Come on," Brooke said.

Lucas stumbled as he stepped out of Brooke's SUV. Unable to walk on his own, he put an arm around Brooke's shoulders to steady him. She helped him into his bedroom.

"Alright, let's get you to bed. Here you go," Brooke said.

Helping Lucas to the bed, Brooke stepped on something hard and heard a cracking sound. She looked down and saw the shards of broken glass from the picture frame.

"Lucas…?" Brooke questioned.

Lucas looked at the picture in the midst of the glass. "She promised. She said she was going to be okay. She said everything was going to be okay," he said angrily.

"Everything's gonna be okay. You're gonna be okay. I'm gonna get you into some jammies and then you can sleep it off," Brooke said.

Pulling Lucas' shirt off, Brooke let it fall to the floor. His scent overwhelmed her. He didn't wear cologne. It was just soap. It was strong and masculine.

Lucas' blue eyes darkened with desire. "Or you can stay," he said softly.

Lucas leaned in to kiss Brooke. She lifted her hand to push him away. Her fingers splayed across his chest, she could feel his heart pounding beneath her palm. Her own pulse quickened.

Lucas closed the distance between them. Brooke opened her mouth to protest, but his lips closed against hers before she could say a word. For a split second, the urge to pull away hit her. And then desire, almost forgotten desire, hit her even harder. This wasn't right, but how could something wrong feel so right? She didn't want to be alone with her grief, but she couldn't be with Lucas. She needed to think, but her thoughts couldn't fight their way through the sensations. Every other thought faded away.

The kiss only ended when they needed to come up for air. Lucas breathed, inhaling Brooke's scent. The signature perfume she'd worn since high school was sexy, alluring. It evoked memories of when they were together in high school. He needed her. He wanted her.

In high school, Lucas took things slow. He was gentle, loving. This was different. He moved quickly. He couldn't get Brooke's clothes off fast enough. He tore at the thin layer of fabric, the obstacle in his path. He was rough, animalistic. Brooke saw the most elemental yearning in his eyes.

Grabbing her hips, he pulled her to him. When their bodies met, it was raw need satisfied, desire fulfilled. He took, possessed, plundered. Her body responded to each frenzied demand. The pace was a sprint, fast and furious. It left them breathless and churning. Exhausted and sore, they collapsed in the silk sheets.

"_Grief and sadness knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings are far stronger than common joys." _

–_Alphonse de Lamartine_


	5. Can't Go Back

**Author's Note:** Thank you for your reviews: mcgirl6541, brucas224, may92, dianehermans and sunshinegirl17.

**Chapter 5: Can't Go Back**

"_I think we all wish we could erase some dark times in our lives. But all of life's experiences, bad and good, make you who you are. Erasing any of life's experiences would be a great mistake."_

_-Luis Miguel_

We've all done things we wish we could take back, but we can't. What's done is done. Time travel is only possible in movies, books, fiction. We can't go back. We can't change the past. What we've done in the past changes our future. Sometimes our mistakes only hurt us. But, it is when our mistakes hurt those we love that it hurts us the most.

Parking in front of her house, Sawyer wondered how much trouble she would be in. Too drunk to drive, she'd stayed at Damon's. It wasn't the first time, but every other time her dad had been too preoccupied with her mom's cancer to notice.

Brooke's BMW was parked in the driveway and Lucas' muscle car wasn't in the garage. Sawyer thought her dad must be out looking for her and her aunt was waiting at the house in case she came home. She didn't want to face an angry Brooke Davis.

Sawyer felt guilty. Not because of her activities the night before, but because she thought staying out had hurt her dad and her aunt. She thought they'd been up all night, worried sick, looking for her. She had to face Brooke and let them know that she was okay. Expecting to see her aunt pacing by the phone, she opened the door and took a tentative step into the house and then another. The house was quiet. Maybe no one was home.

Bewildered and confused, Sawyer walked deeper into the house. She tried the door to her parents' room. Drunk, Lucas had forgotten to lock it. Walking toward the bed, Sawyer avoided the shards of broken glass from the picture frame.

As she got closer to the bed, she saw a t-shirt, a pair of her dad's jeans, a dress and a pair of heels thrown haphazardly on the floor. The dress wasn't her mom's. How could her dad jump in bed with someone who wasn't her mom the night of the funeral?

Picking the dress up, Sawyer stared at it. She knew that dress. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since Brooke sat on the floor in that dress consoling a desolate Sawyer. Sawyer looked at her parents' bed to confirm her suspicions. The two people her mom trusted most had betrayed her. Her dad was supposed to protect her. Instead, he hurt her.

"This is un-fucking-believable!" Sawyer yelled angrily.

The loud noise exacerbated Lucas' hangover. Putting his hand to his throbbing head, he squinted at Sawyer. Groggy, Brooke sat up, pulling the sheet around her, and looked around. She saw Sawyer glaring at her and realized she was in Lucas' house. She remembered what happened the night before and she knew she deserved the frigid fury in Sawyer's eyes, the angry words shouted at her.

Sawyer looked at her dad. "Mom just died!" She yelled.

Lucas couldn't look at his daughter. Her eyes were so icy, so cold. Looking down, he didn't say anything. He wouldn't tell his daughter what happened. He wasn't proud of it. He wasn't going to defend his actions.

Shaking her head, Sawyer stared at Brooke, her eyes flat as ice. "You were her best friend!" She yelled.

"I shouldn't have stayed. It wasn't right," Brooke said. Her voice cracked. Emotions were churning around inside of her. Sorrow, regret, shame.

"If my mom could see you right now, she would be rolling over in her grave," Sawyer said angrily. Even though she stopped yelling, her words contained just as much fury.

"I'm sorry," Brooke said. Tears stung her eyes.

"You should be," Sawyer said.

After Sawyer left, they heard her bedroom door slam.

Brooke looked at Lucas. "What kind of people are we? This is how we mourn Peyton," she said.

"This is my fault. I never wanted to hurt anyone. Peyton, Sawyer, you. I'm sorry," Lucas said.

"I'm not exactly innocent. I should go," Brooke said.

Getting out of the bed, Brooke slipped her dress on. It was wrinkled from being thrown on the floor. She picked up her heels. She couldn't believe she was doing the walk of shame in front of Sawyer.

Grief-stricken, heartbroken, lonely, Lucas Scott and Brooke Davis turned to each other for comfort. The morning after they both wished they could take it back, but they couldn't. They couldn't undo what they'd done. They couldn't go back now. The worst part for both of them, their biggest regret was that they'd hurt Sawyer.

For the next week, they were careful to avoid each other. Sawyer was never home. She spent more nights in Damon's bed than her own. Lucas didn't know Sawyer wasn't in her room. He spent so much time at Tric, they should have named a drink after him. When he was home, he was sleeping it off or nursing a hangover. Brooke hid out in her house. But, they couldn't avoid each other forever.

Sighing, Haley Scott touched the red phone button on her cell phone to end the call. She had called Lucas every day that week. He had yet to pick up the phone or call her back.

"I'm getting really worried about him. It's been a week," Haley said. Her voice was laced with concern.

"I know. I went by Lucas', but no one was there," Nathan said, frowning in concern.

"I think we should go over to Lucas' again," Haley said.

"Now? Hales, it's getting late," Nathan pointed out.

"Exactly. It's dinnertime. He should be home," Haley said.

At a coffee shop, Sawyer sat, tapping her pencil against her sketchpad instead of using it. She scowled at the blank page in front of her. She couldn't concentrate.

Getting in her Mustang, Sawyer put her sketchpad on the empty passenger seat. She drove with no destination in mind. She ended up at the river court.

Sawyer had been going to the river court with her dad since she was old enough to hold a ball. She hadn't been since her mom got sick. It felt wrong to go without her dad.

Sawyer opened the trunk and got a basketball out. She was relieved to see that she was the river court was deserted. She didn't want to talk to anyone. She didn't want anyone asking how she was doing. The silence cleared her head. She stopped thinking about her mom, her dad, her dad and Brooke. Dribbling the ball to the free throw line, she made a basket. Nothing but net. And Sawyer remembered why she loved the river court.

Nathan opened the door to Lucas' house, holding it open for Haley. The lights were off. It didn't look like anyone was home, but they checked every room. It was a ghost town.

"Where are you, Man?" Nathan said to himself. Lucas had disappeared off the face of the earth.

The mission a failure, they got in their Range Rover. As they drove, Haley looked out the window, keeping an eye out for Lucas' muscle car or Sawyer's Mustang.

"Nathan, stop," Haley said. She nodded toward the cherry red Mustang parked by the river court.

Sawyer had been shooting around for about an hour when Nathan and Haley joined her. Nathan stole the ball from her mid-dribble and made a three-pointer.

"I've still got it," Nathan commented. He smirked as he watched the ball fall through the hoop. Haley caught the ball after one bounce and threw it to Sawyer.

"Can I get your autograph, Hotshot?" Sawyer said sarcastically.

"That's Uncle Hotshot to you. Do you know where your dad is?" Nathan said.

"No, but you can probably find him at Tric later tonight," Sawyer replied.

"Tric, huh? How's he doing?" Nathan asked.

"You'll have to ask him," Sawyer replied.

"Jamie told us not to ask you how you're doing," Haley said.

"He's a genius. You should listen to him," Sawyer said.

"Just know all of us would do anything for you. You just have to say the word," Nathan said.

Sawyer smiled. "I know. Thanks," she replied.

When Nathan stepped into Tric, he spotted Lucas sitting on a barstool. It was only 9:00 pm and Lucas was already drunk. Nathan took the shot from Lucas' hand and looked at Chase.

"Why don't you get Luke a bottle of water?" Nathan suggested.

"Go away," Lucas said.

Shaking his head, Nathan stood with arms crossed. "There's no way I'm gonna let you do this," he said.

"Do what?" Lucas asked.

Nathan ignored the question. "Luke, it sucks that Peyton died, but don't make it worse. Don't let Peyton's death take your life away from you," he said.

"I feel lost, Nate. I don't know what to do without her," Lucas said.

"You're not gonna find the answer in the bottom of a bottle. You gotta stop this crap. It's not just about you. Your daughter just lost her mom. She deserves a father. We're all gonna do everything we can to help you get through this, but you can't do this to Sawyer," Nathan said.

Lucas wouldn't tell Nathan that his daughter had walked in on him and Brooke in bed. Sawyer deserved better. She didn't want him. She'd gone out of her way to avoid him since that morning.

Nathan drove Lucas home. Lucas wasn't surprised that he went home to an empty house. He got a bottle of scotch from the liquor cabinet and sat down on the couch.

First thing the next morning, Haley paid Brooke a visit. When she opened the door, Brooke looked up from her desk and smiled.

"Hey," Brooke said.

"Hey. What you doing?" Haley asked.

"I'm working on a new line," Brooke replied.

When Brooke Davis needed a distraction from her life, she threw herself into her work. She did her best work when she was broken-hearted. She started Clothes Over Bros after losing Lucas in high school. She created the line that saved her company from financial ruin after Julian Baker went back to Los Angeles. After she lost her company because her mother lied to their investors, her inspiration ran dry until she miscarried. She started a new company after the miscarriage. Her divorce from Julian Baker inspired a fresh, new line. Haley wasn't surprised that Brooke was knee-deep in a new line now.

"Is it helping?" Haley asked knowingly.

"Not really," Brooke admitted. It also hadn't distracted her from the night she spent with Lucas, but she wasn't going to tell anyone what happened. "But, I'm gonna donate a percentage of the profits to breast cancer research. It makes me feel a little like I'm helping."

"That's great, Brooke," Haley said.

"Thanks, Hales," Brooke replied.

"Have you talked to Lucas?" Haley asked.

Brooke's cheeks colored at the mere mention of Lucas. "I've been really busy with work," she replied.

"I'm worried about him. He's drinking. You know, you were there for him when Keith died. You helped him get past it. If anyone can help him now, it's you," Haley said.

"I'll try," Brooke promised.

Brooke hadn't helped Lucas. She'd made everything worse. She should have been strong. She was weak. She was supposed to be his friend. She had sex with him. Peyton's last wish was for Brooke to be there for Lucas. Brooke had been hiding out in her house, avoiding Lucas. It was time to come out of hiding.

What happened between Lucas and Brooke irrevocably altered their relationship. They couldn't go back to how things were before that night. Brooke didn't know how to move forward. Nervous about talking to Lucas, it took her all day to work up the courage to face him.

Damon opened the door to Sawyer's room and walked in. Sawyer was sitting on her bed drawing. Deep in concentration, she didn't look up.

Bored and ignored, Damon opened Sawyer's underwear drawer. It was where she kept the good stuff. A bottle of tequila and a bag of weed. Her dad wouldn't touch that drawer with a ten-foot pole.

Sitting down beside Sawyer, Damon looked over her shoulder at the drawing. A broken heart was in the middle of the page. One half of the heart was surrounded by dirt. It was her mom's. The other half was drowning in an amber-colored liquid. It was her dad's.

Sawyer put the finishing touches on the drawing and set it aside. She took the bottle of tequila from Damon and drank deeply. Damon reached for the bottle, but she put it behind her back, teasing him. Grinning devilishly, Damon tickled her and wrestled the bottle out of her hands. After taking a pull from the bottle, he held it up, out of reach. Sawyer pressed her lips to his, teasing him, with her mouth.

"Truce?" Damon said.

"Truce," Sawyer murmured.

Damon took his leather jacket off and draped it over the back of Sawyer's desk chair. Sawyer pulled his shirt over his head. Looking over her head, Damon frowned at her open bedroom door.

"Shouldn't you shut the door?" Damon asked.

"No. The bar doesn't close until two," Sawyer replied. She knew her dad wouldn't be home until after last call.

Brooke opened the door to Lucas' house. After checking the living room and the kitchen, she started back to Lucas' room. She was walking past Sawyer's room when she saw a half-naked Damon on top of a topless Sawyer. She didn't miss the empty bottle of tequila on Sawyer's nightstand. From the doorway, she stared in shock. Cold fury flashed into her eyes.

"Get off her!" Brooke yelled.

Grabbing his shirt, Damon made a mad dash for the door. He was grateful for the door that went directly to the porch. He wouldn't have to make it past Brooke to make his escape.

Mortified, Sawyer put her shirt on. She was embarrassed because she was caught in a compromising position. But, she didn't feel the guilt she would have felt had she not caught Brooke and her dad in an even more compromising position.

Sawyer started to follow Damon. But, Brooke wasn't going to let her. In a few swift strides, Brooke closed the distance between her and Sawyer. She grabbed Sawyer's arm. Her grip was gentle yet firm.

"You're not going anywhere," Brooke said. Her tone was stern. She was disappointed and angry.

Sawyer jerked her arm from Brooke's grasp. She took a step back, away from Brooke, closer to Damon.

"Last time I checked, the only people who can ground me are my parents. My mom's dead and my dad's drunk, so I guess that means I can do whatever I want," Sawyer said.

Hearing the blatant disrespect in Sawyer's voice, Brooke was taken aback. Sawyer had never once spoken to Brooke like that before. Their relationship had always been friendly. But, Brooke was an adult and Sawyer was a child. The few times Brooke issued a command or reprimand, Sawyer had been compliant.

"I am your aunt," Brooke reminded her.

"That's funny because my aunt wouldn't have sex with my dad! You're not my aunt! You're nothing to me!" Sawyer yelled. She saw the hurt in Brooke's eyes. She thought Brooke deserved every ounce of pain. It almost gave Sawyer satisfaction that she'd caused it.

"Your mom was my best friend. You are my niece and I love you," Brooke said

"If that's how you treat your friends, I would hate to see how you treat your enemies," Sawyer shot back. The remark hit Brooke like a bullet, piercing her heart.

Brooke wished she could take back the night she'd spent in Lucas' bed. It was ironic. She didn't want to be alone with her grief that night and now she was more isolated than ever. She'd made an enemy out of her best friend's daughter. She couldn't undo what she'd done. She wanted to make it right, but she didn't know how.

Brooke thought she deserved the cutting remarks, the abusive insults, the cold detachment. Sawyer's words hurt more than physical pain. Brooke could grin and bear it. But, what she couldn't bear was Sawyer hurting herself.

Sawyer wouldn't listen to Brooke, wouldn't let Brooke help her. So, Brooke needed backup.

"Where is your dad?" Brooke asked.

"Back for more?" Sawyer said sarcastically, raising her eyebrows.

"Where the hell is your dad?" Brooke demanded. She didn't yell. But, that didn't lessen the power and fury of her words.

"Okay, keep your shirt on," Sawyer said. Drunkenly, she laughed at the double entendre. "He's at Tric."

"Let's see if he agrees that his sixteen year old daughter can do whatever she wants," Brooke said.

Grabbing Sawyer's wrist, Brooke dragged her outside. Sawyer twisted and pulled her captive wrist, struggling to break free. But, Brooke's hold was unbreakable. She wasn't going to let go.

Brooke opened the passenger door. "Let's go. Get in the car," Brooke said.

Unmoving, Sawyer looked Brooke straight in the eye, crossing her arms in front of her. Her posture, her expression, her attitude were pure defiance. Brooke stared at Sawyer, raising her eyebrows. It was a stare down, a battle of wills.

"Now," Brooke said sternly.

Sawyer reluctantly got in Brooke's BMW. As Brooke drove, Sawyer looked out the window. She wouldn't look at Brooke. She didn't say a word to Brooke. The car ride was silent until Brooke pulled into the parking space next to Lucas' muscle car.

"Don't move. If you're not here when I get back, you will regret it," Brooke said sternly.

Lucas was sitting on the same barstool he was on the last time Brooke found him.

"Brooke, what are you doing here?" Lucas asked. His tone was hesitant, reluctant. He wouldn't look her in the eye.

Nervous, Brooke fidgeted, her fingers toying with the belt of her jacket. "I need to talk to you," she replied.

"Do you really think that's a good idea after what happened?" Lucas asked.

"Nathan tried to talk to you, but you didn't listen to him. I don't know what else to do. You can't do this. We're not kids anymore. Your daughter is sixteen years old! She's going through a really hard time right now," Brooke said.

"All of us are going through a really hard time right now!" Lucas yelled.

"I went to your house to talk to you. She had a boy in her room. They'd been drinking," Brooke said.

Frowning in concern, Lucas looked at Brooke.

"She is so angry and hurt. She needs you now more than ever," Brooke said.

"Okay," Lucas said.

When they walked out to the parking lot, Brooke's BMW was gone. Brooke stared at the empty parking space where her car should be.

"She stole my car!" Brooke yelled.

"Well, I'm sure she'll give it back," Lucas said.

"I don't care about my car! I'm worried about her! She's been drinking," Brooke said. Her voice was laced with concern.

They got in Lucas' muscle car. Lucas had been drinking, so Brooke drove. Lucas called Sawyer's cell phone.

"Damn it! She's not answering," Lucas yelled in frustration.

"We have to find her," Brooke said desperately.

Blinded by her fury, Sawyer climbed from the passenger seat to the driver seat and started driving away from Brooke, away from her dad. She couldn't believe Brooke had the nerve to chastise her. Sawyer was with her boyfriend. Brooke had sex with her dead best friend's husband. Brooke wasn't practicing what she was preaching. And Sawyer didn't want to hear any more, not from Brooke or her dad.

Sawyer hadn't had a drop of alcohol in over an hour. But, she was still driving under the influence. And she wasn't comfortable in Brooke's BMW. The SUV was wider, higher up than her Mustang. Scared, she drove slowly, almost ten miles under the speed limit.

"Brooke!" Lucas said, nodding at the BMW creeping along the road ahead of them.

Speeding, Brooke caught up to Sawyer. Sawyer saw her dad and Brooke behind her, closing in on her. Desperate, she slammed her foot down on the gas. The BMW accelerated fast, much faster than her Mustang. Losing control of the car, she crashed into the guardrail. She heard the crunching of metal.

Watching his daughter crash before his eyes was a sobering experience for Lucas. When Brooke pulled over, Lucas jumped out and ran to the BMW. He opened the door and pulled Sawyer out. Sawyer wasn't hurt, just shaken up.

"You stupid girl! Did I raise an idiot? Did you think about anyone else? I just lost your mom! I can't lose you, too!" Lucas yelled.

As Lucas yelled at her, Sawyer started crying, her face scrunched up. "I'm sorry," she said.

We all make mistakes, some bigger than others. One mistake can ruin a life. Driving drunk could have ruined Lucas' and Sawyer's. For Lucas, the only thing harder than losing Peyton would have been losing Sawyer. No parent should have to lose a child. If Sawyer had been going faster, she wouldn't be standing there listening to her dad yell. If she'd hit a car instead of the guardrail, she could have ruined her life and the life of an innocent bystander. But, sometimes we get second chances. We have an opportunity to apologize for our misdeeds, right our wrongs, repair the damage.

"_If you have made mistakes, there is always another chance for oyu. You may have a fresh start any moment you choose, for this thing we call 'failure' is not the falling down, but the staying down."_

_Mary Pickford _


End file.
